


Found

by aliensundermybed, christinefromsherwood, Nana_41175



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Play, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Vampire!Q, Werewolf!James, monster au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliensundermybed/pseuds/aliensundermybed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/pseuds/Nana_41175
Summary: Q was about to shut the great wooden doors when he caught sight of the stranger, materializing from the misty downpour like an apparition. He stood still, watching as the silhouette came forward, finally coalescing into the more substantial form of a man of average height and heavy build. He waited, not moving from where he stood, until he could see the man's eyes— startlingly blue and as cold as the rain— from under the low brim of his dripping hat.Cold, pale eyes alight with discovery: He'd found him.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 16
Kudos: 147
Collections: MI6 Cafe Collections, Sp00qy





	Found

**Author's Notes:** Hey everyone! Welcome to another AU fic! This story was supposed to be written for sp00qy October, but the Muse wasn't able to make the deadline, ahah! It would not have come into being without **Aliensundermybed's** fantastic art! Some will be featured here, and the naughtier ones will be linked (underlined passages). And super thanks to my beta, **Christinefromsherwood** , for her lovely twist to the story! We loved writing this baby!

We hope you guys enjoy, and do let us know what you think! More of **[Alien's art can be found on her twitter](https://twitter.com/Dramaticatart)**. Please do drop by and give her all the LOVE!

* * *

Given his long and eventful life, nobody was more familiar with the mysterious machinations of Fate than Q, and it finally caught up with him one cold, rainy afternoon in his tiny parish on the outskirts of nowhere.

“Here, Henry,” he said, dismissing the last of the altar boys. “Don’t forget some of the tea to bring to your mother. It will help with the coughing.”

“Yes, thank you, Father,” said the young boy, his mackintosh secured around his person as he skipped down the wet steps, a small basket in hand. “See you tomorrow, Father!”

“Goodbye.”

Q stood by the doorway for a few moments more, smoothing his cassock and listening to the soothing murmur of the rain. He did not think anyone would show up for the evening service, which meant he had the entire night to himself.

He was about to shut the great wooden doors when he caught sight of the stranger, materializing from the misty downpour like an apparition. He stood still, watching as the silhouette came forward, finally coalescing into the more substantial form of a man of average height and heavy build. He waited, not moving from where he stood, until he could see the man’s eyes— startlingly blue and as cold as the rain— from under the low brim of his dripping hat.

Cold, pale eyes alight with discovery: He’d found him.

A thin scar ran its way down the stranger’s right eye— hardly a reassuring feature, yet Q was fascinated.

The man’s voice, when it came out, was resonant and deep, pleasant to the ears, “Evening, Father.”

And all the while, it seemed as though time had ground to a halt. It stood still until the voice came to shatter the brief enchantment.

Q hitched a breath in, yet his voice came out smooth and calm, “Good evening.”

He was alone, and he had a feeling the man knew it too. Still, it was his job never to turn away strangers.

“Goodness, you’re soaked,” he continued in a mild, distracted voice as his mind leaped ahead, envisioning possible scenarios in the coming minutes, hours. Obviously, his plans for a quiet evening had evaporated. “I don’t suppose you’re here for the evening service? I didn’t think anyone was coming.”

The man’s entire face creased as he smiled. “I would be grateful if I could wait out the downpour,” he replied.

“Of course.” Q nodded as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And a spot of hot tea may help,” he said, pushing the wooden door wider. “Do come in.”

He guided the man through the small, silent chapel and into the back rooms that served as his living quarters. It would be an exaggeration to say that his heart was skipping in his chest as he felt the man's gaze boring into the back of his head. His sensible, old heart had done no such thing in ages, yet he felt the thrill of anticipation-- a novel thing after all these years.

“Come warm yourself by the fire,” he urged as he set about making tea.

The man advanced slowly into the room, removing his hat and dripping mackintosh and setting them by the door. The bag slung casually over one shoulder remained close to his person though. Q did not have to look at the man directly to realize that he was scanning the living room with his sharp eyes, casing his environment.

A true professional, thought Q wryly.

He’d had tails before and he knew just how to handle one. Only…

Q breathed in, taking in the man’s scent as it grew stronger in the small chamber, now that he’d shrugged off his outer clothing.

Different. Unmistakable. This man was entirely different from all those who’d come before him. That ought to trip some alarm bells if only Q was not so busy being offended.

This _creature_ , he thought, making his spine rigid with affront. How _dare_ he come looking for him.

Aloud he said, “You must be famished.”

Solicitously, he set out a plate of biscuits along with the tea on the table. “Sorry, I don’t have anything more substantial. We usually don’t have guests coming over especially at this hour.”

“You’re not having any, Father?” noted the man as he came over after he finished warming his hands over the fire.

Q smiled thinly. “I’ve already had my tea before you came and dinner won’t be for a while longer,” he answered smoothly. “Mister…?”

“Oh. Where are my manners?” said the man in the same easy tone as he extended a hand. “Bond. James Bond.”

“Mr. Bond,” said Q as they shook hands briefly. He resisted the urge to shudder. It was conspicuous that Bond didn’t ask for his own name. The man had no need to, Q was sure. He already knew who he was. Or _what_ he was.

They kept up a small stream of polite chatter as the man wolfed down the biscuits and tea, as though it had been quite some time since he’d last eaten.

Just like Q.

“Like I said, this is a small hamlet, tucked away from everything else, including time, almost. We don’t get many visitors,” he said as Bond finished eating. “So I hope you won’t mind my asking what’s brought you here.”

It was time they got down to business.

Bond smiled, appreciation lighting those pale eyes. He was prepared to spare his host from any false protestations of innocence, and Q rather liked that. Not that he meant to play by this man’s rules.

“Why, Father,” Bond drawled. “Naturally, I’ve come to make a confession.”

“Is that so?” said Q politely. “Shall we move to the confessional outside?”

Bond shook his head. “Let’s dispense with the formalities. Besides, it’s more comfortable here,” he said, not budging from his seat while he surveyed Q frankly. “You must have known for a while now that I’ve been tailing you.”

“Oh?” Q murmured, never breaking eye contact with Bond. Of course, he knew. For years. And Bond was just one of the many who’d tried.

Bond continued, “You’ve done well with the clever set up here, I must say. Nobody would suspect a demure village priest from being anything other than what he is.”

“I’m sure it would be a very clever disguise indeed,” agreed Q.

“I first got wind of you after the murder of that clergyman in Leicester. Oh, it was made to look like an attack by some mystery beast while he was out having his evening walk in the nearby woods, but the staggering amount of blood loss was... noteworthy to more discerning eyes. He was almost completely drained.”

Q pulled his brows and the corners of his mouth down as he made a show of contemplating Bond’s news. “Ah, yes, I remember reading about that some years ago,” he said, “but I fail to see how you might think it relevant to bring up with me, now.”

“You knew the man. You served with him briefly, in the same church. No matter how clever you may be, covering up your tracks, you left a trail of broken bodies in your wake over the years, Father,” Bond said, his voice lowered in an almost-growl. “Your selection has been quite interesting, though.”

Q blinked several times for Bond’s benefit. “Sorry,” he said, beginning to smile. “What are you even suggesting?”

“Not suggesting. Stating. That you’re a vampire, Father,” Bond deadpanned.

Q nodded politely. “Ah,” he said. “I think you must be very tired from your travels, my son. Perhaps you may want to lie down and--”

“Oh, don’t think to throw me off by saying vampires can’t be priests or surround themselves with supposed holy objects inside a church,” scoffed Bond, as though he’d not heard him. “We all know that crucifixes are only as good as the people holding them. Saints do come along once every blue moon, and your ex-colleague was certainly not one of them.”

“Be that as it may, if I were to indulge your fantasy, I’m awake during the day, and I can and do walk under the sun to visit my parishioners,” Q argued patiently. “I sleep on a bed. I can take tea and biscuits, for crying out loud.”

“Doesn’t matter if you’re able to be out and about, tolerating a bit of sun, so long as you’ve lined your shoes with bits of your native earth,” Bond replied. “And sure, you can nibble on solid foods every now and then just to keep up with appearances, but what of your bloodlust?”

“Hmm.” Q pursed his lips as he considered Bond’s argument. “And yet, unfortunately for you, there hasn’t been any gruesome murder in this vicinity in all the time I’ve been here.”

He was enjoying this more than he ought to. Was he really this starved for company? It had been a long time since he’d come across anyone so interesting; someone he could play with.

“Oh, you’re lying low, visiting different victims during the night to feed on them, just enough so that they might fall ill but not die outright,” Bond said, voice low. “Your kind do that for months, maybe even a few years, until someone comes along to rile you up, drive you over the edge and into carnage. And afterward, you’ll disappear and the cycle will start all over again.”

“Well, that makes sense,” conceded Q, appearing to think it over.

Bond continued, “Yet you’re not alone. Help sometimes finds its way to you through people who know you for what you are and are still sympathetic. Like your friend, Sister Moneypenny, over at Leicester. She covered up after you, didn’t she? She even tried to throw me off your scent.”

Q grew still as he regarded Bond. He said nothing.

“Don’t worry, I’ve not done anything to her other than have a chat, nice and civil. I can assure you she’s quite charming. Yet here’s the thing about you,” said Bond as he read Q correctly. “The trail of dead you’ve left behind were all such unsavoury characters. It’s almost as though you’re doing humanity a favor. That clergyman you killed, for instance, was an alleged pedophile.”

“Ahh.” Q shrugged, his humor returning. “There you go, then. There’s a silver lining to all that doom and gloom of being a thirsty little bloodsucker, after all. That should tip the scales back a little as far as your harsh judgement of vampires is concerned, shouldn’t it?”

Bond exhaled soft laughter. “It should,” he said. “Only it doesn’t change anything. I’d still need to take you down.”

“You, a vampire hunter?” said Q softly as he gazed at Bond steadily, green eyes bright behind the glasses, turning almost luminous as he contemplated the amusing parody that was the man before him. “You’re hardly in any position to be taking the moral high ground with me.”

“Oh?”

“For one, I could smell you a mile away,” said Q evenly. “Haven’t you thought of bathing every once in a while? You smell like a wet dog, wolfman.”

Bond barked out a startled laugh.

“And I do take offence with the term ‘alleged pedophile’ to describe that bastard. That man had managed to get away with his crimes for decades and what did my seniors do when they found out? They merely shuffled him off to _my_ parish, as _my_ superior to wreak havoc on _my_ community. I don’t know about you, but there are predators out there more monstrous than we are.”

He could remember the moment clearly when the man, terrified, had finally realized Q for what he was and had tried vainly to ward him off with a wooden crucifix. It had been delightful, drenched in warm rivulets of red and clutching at the ineffectual cross even as he savaged the man. Such sweet memories.

Coming out of his brief reverie, Q leveled Bond with his steady, bright gaze. “Deep down, we’re quite the same, you and I,” he said. “In the course of our very long lives, we’ve learned the importance of looking after the flock and picking just the right victims rather than opting for indiscriminate kills. It makes for a tidier way of life, living amongst them and taking their best interest to heart by getting rid of troublemakers. And as for you, I’d dearly want to know why it is that you still consider yourself more sheep than wolf, to be going after the sheep’s perceived enemies even as they happen to be just like you. In taking me down, do you really think it will bring back the humanity you’ve lost?”

Finally, for the first time that evening, he could see he’d hit a nerve. He watched, satisfaction deepening at the way a muscle worked on Bond’s jaw.

“You were bitten, just like me,” said Q. “Yet we try desperately to cling onto what it had been like to be human.”

He gazed at Bond, as if to say, I understand. The pain, the loneliness, the feeling of being the other, the outsider. All of it.

To look at Bond though, it seemed he wasn’t getting through with his message. The man merely gazed back at him with a shuttered expression, then he said, slowly, “That’s all well and good, Father, but at the end of the day, this is the only thing you’ll truly care about.”

“What are you doing?” Q said in sudden alarm as Bond bit down into his own lip. _”Stop!”_

Q stared, horrified, at the blood welling on Bond’s mouth, even as the man smiled, his fingertips smearing red as he made to wipe the blood away. “Goddammit, Bond!”

“Tell me you can resist this, and I will let you be,” Bond said as he stood up. “Come and get it, Father.”

Q reared back his head as the warm, rich, coppery smell reached him— so achingly familiar and very much missed. He had to clamp down hard on his own mouth to prevent a growl from escaping.

And there, right before him, Bond was changing.

“Oh, shit,” Q said out loud.

It had slipped his mind completely that there was going to be a full moon tonight.

And of course, of course, Bond had timed his arrival here to coincide with the lunar cycle.

“Bloody perfect,” muttered Q, rolling his eyes as he watched the man before him change.

There was something ridiculous about werewolf transformations; the exaggerated physicality of the process— the bulging muscles and the hairiness. Like any rational being, Q had done his best to avoid being in the vicinity of any werewolf, let alone one that was actively transforming, yet it had its own allure.

And Bond was an awesome specimen; he had to give him that.

It had been a while.

“Come on,” growled Bond. “You know you want this.”

“You bloody idiot!” Q spat as he launched himself from his chair with startling speed. “You _cheat!”_

And just like that, they were brawling in the middle of the tiny living room, knocking over the furniture and sending things flying. Bond was bigger, heavier, but Q was faster and knew how to work his hands.

“Don’t be so bloody dramatic! You can't possibly think you've won!” Q snapped as he managed to hook an elbow around Bond’s neck for a moment, his grip strong enough to break bone. "You're not playing fair!"

But just for a moment. Then Bond hurled him over his shoulder and onto the floor and Q found himself pinned beneath his adversary. He was winded; it had been a while since he’d had such a strenuous workout, and he should hate this— hate how a bloody werewolf was slobbering all over him. He really should. The seconds stretched out as they regarded each other up close, eyes wide, panting, breathing each other’s breaths.

“Bloody hell,” Q cried before he lost control completely. “Get off me, you…you furry, cheating fleabag!”

"You used to like this. Before." Bond grinned, showing all his teeth before he lowered his head.

And Q…all he could see was Bond’s bloodied mouth. Desire flared abruptly amidst all the anger; flame finally erupting from dry tinder at the touch of a spark. So he leaned forward the last few inches to lick at that torn lower lip.

He felt Bond freeze as he whispered, teeth bared, “Good. You taste so bloody good, Bond.”

What happened next occurred far too quickly for rational thought. All he knew was that they were suddenly kissing, fierce and passionate. He bit into Bond’s mouth, savoring the gush of blood, all too aware that he’d not had a proper feeding in weeks. These past few days, he’d been too careful not to take too much from Henry’s mum.

He was _starving._

He wrenched himself from Bond, eyeing the bloodied mouth, the straining muscles over that feral face. “You found me, Bond, after all these years” he said. “And you triggered the bloodlust you’ve spoken of. Let me have you tonight, so that others may be spared.”

“Always,” growled Bond as he leaned in for another savage kiss. “You can have me always.”

Q was having none of it. He turned to Bond’s neck and sank his teeth in, greedily helping himself to the man as Bond rutted against him, tearing at his clothes to rake at naked skin.

Q smiled as he licked at Bond’s neck, the skin around his bite already healing. “I’ve not splurged in a long while,” he confessed. “How long has it been since we were together? Won’t you indulge me, give me everything I want tonight, Bond? It will be…messy.”

“Always so polite,” observed Bond as he gave Q a wolfish grin.

“Not always, mind you. You know I’m choosy,” replied Q with a sharp smile. “And those we choose, we subject to an artful courtship.”

“You’re courting me?” Bond said, incredulously.

“As if you’re not aware?” replied Q sardonically. “This entire time we’ve been roleplaying.”

He twisted in Bond’s grasp abruptly, and suddenly he was on top. “I’ll just have to show you what I want,” Q said as he reached for Bond’s trousers. "Welcome back, Bond."

“You don’t mince words,” Bond observed, amused.

“Or actions,” said Q as his long, nimble fingers undid the zip and closed around Bond’s hardening flesh. He was massive.

“You ridiculous man,” murmured Q, running his tongue over his reddened lips in anticipation of the feast ahead.

[Bond watched, hardly breathing and body tense as Q lowered his head to devour him. It was exquisite, the way he held off using that lethal mouth of his on him; instead, Q licked at him with his tongue— delicate traces of lightning— before he got down to the serious business of sucking him off.](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/El8ptzNVkAESDXC?format=jpg&name=large)

It had been a while since Bond had been loved like this, and how strange that it was a vampire to do so, and to make a really good job of it. He felt all the pent-up appetites surging, breaking through, until, with a growl, he had Q flipped over onto his back as he repaid him with his attentions.

Q moaned, his head hitting the stony floor as his body arched in response to Bond’s mouth on his cock, an intense, relentless pleasure that he’d lived far too long without. “Like that. Oh! Just like that.”

He gasped out a breath of surprise to feel Bond shift his attentions, lapping at his hole as he continued to fondle Q’s hard prick with clawed fingers. The gasps turned into high-pitched whines at the feel of Bond’s fingers inside him, probing him. The contrasting sensations were almost excruciating, and Q was instantly and hopelessly addicted.

And oohhh, when had it last been since he’d felt this excited and alive? This was different from the prospect of a satisfying feed. This was more. Oh, so much more.

“More!” demanded Q as he ground against Bond’s face, endeavoring to have more of that aggressive tongue on him, those fingers inside him.

“And here I thought patience was a virtue of yours,” teased Bond.

“Well, obviously, not now,” snapped Q and he huffed in frustration as he heard Bond chuckle against him. “The timing, Bond!”

“It’s everything,” Bond agreed as he rose behind Q to enter him.

“Bloody hell!” Q cried before he could stop himself. Bond’s long slide into him was perfect; every inch of that thick cock filling him felt like heaven. “Oh, fucking splendid! Don’t stop!”

Thus raved the priest, mindless with lust, breaking his vow of chastity for the first time in over a century. Bond laughed, enjoying his partner’s pleasure. [Slowly, he turned Q over so that he lay on his back, gazing back at him as Bond sped up his thrusts, hunger etched in their movements and the animal sounds escaping their throats.](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/El8puF_UYAEkR3a?format=jpg&name=large)

“Close,” Q warned. “Bloody Christ… coming, I’m coming, Bond!”

With a growl, Bond threw himself over his lover’s writhing form, bringing him in close and sinking his teeth into Q’s neck and his shoulders as Q cried out and shuddered. The waves hit Bond then and he let go, dimly aware of Q’s nipping bites, the way he raked his nails down Bond’s back as Bond emptied himself into him.

It was, all together, a sensational fuck.

Q merely giggled when Bond told him so as they lay, momentarily drained in the middle of the wreckage that was Q’s living room.

“Although I’ll have you know, you cheated, luring me with blood,” said Q archly. “That isn’t how one plays the game.”

“But darling,” drawled Bond. “How else am I supposed to win?”

After the giddy moment of elation had passed, Bond said, “So. How long has it been?”

Q sighed as he turned to regard him. “May 1914,” he said. “Just before the Great War. Or have you forgotten?”

“That long, huh,” marveled Bond.

Q leaned in to kiss him on the mouth, softly for once. “It’s good to see you again. You’ve come to tell me things and we’ve got all night,” he said, trailing kisses that grew sharper as he went down once again on Bond. “But for now…”

Bond laughed. “Insatiable little vamp.”

“I’ve missed you, Bond.”

* * *

They managed to right everything before daybreak, and Q, in a fresh cassock, stepped out into the morning sun with Bond. A cat came up the walk, meowing plaintively before weaving itself around Q’s feet.

“Toodles,” murmured Q, stooping down to pet at the cat. “I was wondering where you’ve got yourself off to last night.”

“You keep pets now?” inquired Bond, watching as Q stroked at the animal affectionately.

“More like he regards me as an equal,” Q replied. “We’ve got a certain arrangement going on to our satisfaction. He’s got his secrets and so have I. We respect each other.”

There was a small beat of silence before Q murmured, “They are the only ones who know what I am, yet they’re not afraid. Cats, I mean.”

“They’re not the only ones, you know,” Bond replied, smiling.

Q turned to eye Bond wryly. “Since when,” he queried, “were you ever afraid of me?”

“Oh, don’t let me inflate your ego, now,” Bond scoffed. “Of course I was. Right until you kissed me the first time, so long ago.”

Q turned his head away so that Bond wouldn’t see his wide grin.

“I can see why you love this life,” Bond said after a moment.

Q nodded, his gaze far away. “I was a seminarian, before I was bitten. Have I ever told you that? Old habits die hard, I suppose. When I grew weary of my solitary travels, I always found it a comfort to turn to my roots.”

“Every time I learn something new about you, Q.”

The road ahead of them was still long, full of twisting paths that may diverge before winding back together, just as it had always been; but they were not alone. They had never been alone.

“I’ll have to stay here, at least for a while longer, to take care of things,” said Q. “And to avoid suspicion.”

“And when the time comes I shall come back for you like always,” said Bond. “Now that I’ve found you, I won’t let you go.”

“And I, you,” replied Q smiling.

Bond stood up, sensitive ears picking up the first people approaching. “I’d best be going before they see me,” he said.

They didn’t touch, didn’t kiss. They did not need to.

“No goodbyes,” said Bond. They’ve never needed them.

Q shook his head in agreement. “Until we meet again,” he said.

He watched Bond turn and walk away. Ten minutes later, he was welcoming the first of his flock for morning Mass.


End file.
